I Don't Understand
by CaityJH
Summary: The one time Sodapop doesn't get it. The one time he doesn't understand what pain his younger brother is bearing.


Disclaimers: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

 _A/N: This oneshot is pretty similar to 'Rainbow Beyond the Clouds'. Pretty sad little story, but I guess I enjoy writing emotional ones. I find I'm better at them rather than happy ones or humorous ones. Weird, I know, but I can't rewire my brain. Enjoy._

 **I** **Don't Understand**

I don't understand.

I know you think I do. I know you look up to me, I see your eyes. You think I understand everything, think I can fix everything and give you advice for everything. I know you think I do.

And hell, I did too.

I thought I could always understand you. You're my little brother, kiddo. Of course I could understand. How could I not, with those big green eyes and those rosy red cheeks.

You told me everything. And when you didn't, I would always know. You knew that. You always have.

I could always understand.

* * *

I knew when you were happy.

God, I loved it when you were happy.

Those eyes of yours would widen and sparkle, letting everyone see the twinkling green irises that were distinguishably yours. You'd show off that smile, somehow unable to remove it from your face which would always make me laugh. It made you laugh too.

God, I loved it when you laughed.

But that smile of yours always remained shut. Even when you would laugh so hard until your stomach hurt, your attempts to keep your grin small always went unnoticed by me. You knew it did. You know I noticed everything.

But somehow, I didn't notice this.

Those crooked front teeth which you always endeavoured to hide under your lips wasn't a secret to me. It wasn't a secret to nobody. We all have saw them at least once. It's just a part of what makes you _you._

What makes you Ponyboy.

Those crooked front teeth, barely went noticed by me. By anyone. Yet you still hid them. Still kept that grin closed, unable to let go and just _smile_. A _real_ smile.

God, I loved it when you smiled.

Why don't you smile anymore?

I never cared about those crooked teeth, honey. Not once. Darry didn't either. Not Two-Bit, not Dallas, not Johnny, and not Steve, who bared a set of crooked teeth on his own.

None of us cared and looked at you differently for those crooked teeth.

Why did you?

I know you think I understand, and in a way, I did. I'm self-conscious about things too, Pone. I could look in a mirror and start pointin' out random flaws, probably only noticeable by me. We all do it. I understand. It's normal.

But I don't understand now.

* * *

I knew when you were embarrassed.

Your face would flush that pinky-red, and you'd become real interested in your shoes. You'd sometimes stay planted in one spot, not daring to look up, while other times you'd run off. To another room, out the door, just away.

I understand, 'cause we all get embarrassed. It's normal.

And I guess I understood why you wanted to move back into your own room. Or at least, I thought I did. You're soon fifteen, growing up, getting more independent, you don't need to sleep with me anymore. Sleeping with big brothers when you're fifteen "ain't cool."

God, I wished that were the case.

You said your nightmares were over.

Pony, you said you slept like a baby.

Why did you lie?

Why didn't I realize?

If I knew what you were doing in your room, I would've never let you go. Would've never let you take your pillow back to your room to hide that blade under.

* * *

You're a runner, Ponyboy. We all know it.

I know the way you feel carefree as the adrenalin rushes through your veins and your feet hit the track court floor swiftly and perfectly during one of your tournaments. I know. I've seen it. You love track, love to run. We all know it, but I know _you_. I knew the excitement you felt before a race, the pride and accomplishment you felt when you'd cross that finish line, the gold medal yours to keep.

But even if you didn't win, if the shiny gold medal went around the neck of another runner, we were all so happy. So proud.

You always won in my mind, Pony.

I know you saw me, up in the bleachers, waving my arms and screaming your name. I know you saw. I'd catch you scanning the audience for me and the gang, those green eyes searching for my brown ones. The second your feet would cross that finish line that's what you'd do again. Look for me. Look for the gang.

I was so proud of you, kiddo.

You're a runner. Practically born on the track team. You were always so happy...

When you quit...I just...maybe it got boring. Maybe it got old. Maybe you didn't enjoy it as much anymore.

I should have known.

I should have seen the bruises you covered up. Should have thought twice when you said it was nothing, that those runners didn't do anythin'.

I should have understood.

I know you, Ponyboy.

I _knew_ you.

* * *

I don't understand, anymore.

I knew when you were feeling sad. Even when you tried to hide it, _I_ always knew. Could always read you, know what you were feeling.

God, I hate it when you're sad.

You'd always tell me though. _Always._ You always believed in me, always thought I could help.

I'm so sorry I couldn't help, baby.

But this time, I didn't understand. You were always so sad. Those green eyes you have would be dull and empty, your posture would be slouched, your lips always curled in a frown. I thought I understood. Your best friend died. _Johnny_ died, and so did Dallas. It effected us all - we were all sad. You were sad. You didn't have to hide it. No one blamed you, Pone.

But I know you were more than sad.

I know you were crumbling inside.

I know that now.

Why didn't you tell me?

* * *

I read your journals. I hope you ain't mad.

Why didn't you tell me how you felt? Why did you write in your journals instead of talk to me? Why, Ponyboy?

I don't understand.

The words on those papers weren't you. No, they couldn't be from you. You wouldn't speak like that.

But I know your handwriting.

I didn't blame you, honey.

It ain't your fault. _Please_ , it ain't your fault.

Nobody blames you. Not me, not Darry, not Two-Bit or Steve, _no one._

So why do you?

Why?

I don't understand.

* * *

I went through your room. I know you wouldn't want me to, but I had to.

I _had_ to.

I needed to understand.

I found your things. It wasn't hard to find them.

Even now, I guess I still know you.

Because _I_ was the one who taught you the hiding spots. You knew all my secrets in our old room. I told them all to you. I knew you'd hide your secrets in similar spots. I know you.

But do I?

I found the blade underneath your pillow.

I hate that I didn't see the scars, or the blood stains on your pillow case.

I found the pills inside the old pair of shoes you keep in the corner of your room.

I hate that I never heard the rattle of the bottle.

I hate that _I_ was the one who threw that bottle in the shopping cart when me and Darry were grocery shopping. I thought it would help you. I knew you were hurting, Ponyboy. I knew the burn on your arm was still painful. I knew the aches in your body from your time in Windrixville were still there. I knew you were in pain. I thought the pills would help ease it.

But you weren't thinking about the physical pain, were you?

Why didn't I understand?

* * *

Your drawings, honey, I found them too.

They scared me.

The images...Ponyboy, why did you draw them? Why didn't you come to me?

Baby, I don't understand.

* * *

They said the scars were as old as five months.

Said they probably started around October last year.

You know what happened in October, honey.

I knew it was Dally's blade you kept in your pocket. Kept in under your pillow case at night.

But Ponyboy, when you started carryin' the blade, we all thought it was for protection. Just in case.

But it wasn't, was it.

I should have known there was something wrong.

Should have thought twice when you'd spend a long time in the bathroom.

Should have asked about it when you started wearing long-sleeve shirts everywhere. To bed.

But Ponyboy, I thought it was just because of the chilly weather.

I should have known.

I should have understood.

* * *

They said we were too late.

They said you were lying on the bathroom floor for at least an hour before we found you.

before _I_ found you.

You were the first one home. You walked from school. Me and Darry were working, Steve too. Two-bit was running late. You were alone.

 _Alone._

But you were never supposed to be alone, honey. You were never supposed to feel alone. You had me. You had Darry, you had Two-bit, you even had Steve.

You had _me_.

You have _me_.

But you still were alone. You still were sad, still were crumbling, _breaking_.

You weren't supposed to break, Ponyboy.

You weren't supposed to shove all those pills down your throat. forty-five of them. The whole family pack.

I threw those in the shopping cart too.

You were supposed to come to me, baby.

You were supposed to curl up in my arms.

 _I_ was supposed to help you.

I thought I was. God, I thought I was.

I don't understand.

* * *

I draw on your pale, motionless arms.

I use your pens and markers from your room. The bright coloured ones are full of ink - you don't use them very much.

I draw rainbows and suns and flowers and leaves, I draw sunsets and trees and hearts and stars.

I draw over your scars, kiddo.

Not because I don't want to look at them. They're hard to see, hard to imagine you hurting yourself, but I don't want you to keep it a secret. I _didn't_ want you to keep it a secret. Not from me. Never from me. You don't need to be ashamed around me. Never, Ponyboy.

I draw over your scars because I don't want you to look at them, and see just those scars. Just the pain. Just the hurt.

You shouldn't be ashamed, Pony, but when you look at your arms and those lined scars stare back at you, I drew rainbows, and flowers because I want you to see the _happiness._

I want you to see the _beauty_.

I don't want you to see the agonizing pain you felt, when we were all so oblivious.

Kiddo I want you to see the light ahead. _Ahead_.

If only you could look.

If only you could open up those green eyes above the plastic mask, and _look_. See the colours, the sunsets, the trees, the hearts and the stars.

If only you could wake up, see the beauty I see.

Because that's what I see, honey.

 _Beauty._ You're beautiful.

Why do you say otherwise?

You're smart. A genius, Pony.

Why can't you see it?

You're kind. Loving. Warmhearted and gentle.

Why don't you agree?

You're special. So special. My kid brother. My world.

Please, Ponyboy, tell me why you don't think so. Why?

You deserve a life. A long, happy, wife and kids, white-picket fence life, with lots of Christmases, birthdays, and Easters, and Summers...

So why did you do this? Why did you take it away?

Baby, I don't understand.

I know you think I do. I know you. I know my little brother. Better than anybody. _Anybody_.

But now, I _don't_ know.

* * *

I don't understand.

* * *

 _R & R is appreciated._


End file.
